Cupid Pulls Back the Bow
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I feel the everything of you,
through spring... through fall my breath would run
across the towers of sky blue
and petals bless our crowning sun,
to grasp a language still undone.
Arrows brush lips , never amiss ,
beholding sighs fragrant as dew
which glaze the rawness of a kiss;
then softens late evening, anew
till we join freely in life's bliss.
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1/08/2017 CUPID PULLS BACK THE BOW
A Mystic Rose Contest
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2017
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